


In Sickness and in Health

by Xie



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:31:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xie/pseuds/Xie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian gets a sinus infection. Justin gets a call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness and in Health

Brian heard the loft door slide open, and buried his head deeper under the pillow. He had no doubt it was Michael, paged by Theodore, who'd be out on his ass as soon as Brian felt remotely well enough to…

He stopped his train of thought. He'd heard the loft door close, and footsteps, but Mikey should have been hovering and fluttering and making obnoxious inquiries into his state of health by now.

Brian cautiously lifted one corner of the pillow, and cracked his eyelid open to see who was there – even though he already had a pretty good idea.

"Christ," Brian mumbled as he closed his eye against the combined intensity of the sunlight from the living room, and the death ray of mixed anger and fear shining out of Justin's eyes. "I'm going to kill Theodore, use Rage's powers of mind control to raise him from the dead, then kill him again."

"That will be difficult," Justin said, sitting on the edge of the bed, "given that you can't lift your head off the mattress or open your eyes for two seconds." He pulled the pillow away from Brian's face. "And that I'm about to kill you myself."

Brian didn't say anything, and Justin stood up. "We had an agreement. You weren't going to do this again. You promised…"

Brian mumbled something, but Justin couldn't hear it. "What?"

Brian moved the duvet away from his mouth. "I said, I'm not dying. I don't have cancer, plague, or galloping consumption. I have…" he sighed, and summoned up the strength to finish his sentence, "a sinus infection."

Justin sat down again. "A sinus infection?" He shook his head. "Why didn't you just tell Ted it was your sinuses?" Justin pulled the pillow away again, ignoring Brian's groaning protest. "You asshole."

Brian gave up and forced himself into a semi-seated position, jamming his much-battered pillow under his head and trying to ignore the pain behind his eyes. "Because I had no idea Theodore was going to lose his fucking mind – and, by the way, his job – and call you in New York and tell you I needed some fucking tender loving care."

Justin frowned. "Brian, I've had allergies all my life, and I've had more sinus infections than I can remember. You go on antibiotics, and then the next day you're fine."

Silence.

"Brian?"

"Well…"

Justin sat up straighter. "Tell. Me."

Brian shifted, sighed and tugged at the duvet. "I haven't actually gone to the doctor," he said.

Justin stood up. "What did you do, call the psychic hotline for a diagnosis?" He shook his head. "You don't know what this is. You could have a brain tumor." His eyes narrowed. "Which would explain so many things…"

Brian flopped over and tried to get his head buried under the pillows again. "Fuck you."

Justin opened the closet door. "We're going to the doctor. So get up, or I'll have Rage develop a severe case of impotence in the next issue."

The doctor concurred with Brian's self-diagnosis and with Justin's treatment plan: antibiotics. Brian couldn't move his head without agony, so he just leaned back, closed his eyes, and half-listened to Justin babbling about sinus flushes and ice packs and herbal tea while they drove back to the loft.

He didn't protest when Justin stopped at Whole Foods to get soup, juice and vitamins.

He meekly ate the soup and a cracker, and took the pills Justin handed him.

But when Justin tried to put an icepack on his forehead, he swatted it away. "Just let me get some fucking sleep."

Brian's eyes were closed, so he didn't see Justin's smile. "Thank God. I was starting to think you really did have a brain tumor."

Brian sighed. "I was hoping that if I cooperated with your Florence Nightingale program here, you'd leave me the fuck alone."

Justin nodded. "My work here is done."

He was turning away from the bed when Brian's hand shot out and caught his. "When do you have to go back?"

Justin tilted his head slightly and looked at him for a minute, then smiled. "Not for a couple of days. Go to sleep."

And Brian did.

The next day, Brian was in the bathroom contemplating his bloodshot eyes in the mirror. "I'm going into the office," he told Justin, who was peeing.

Justin flushed the toilet. "That's brave of you."

Brian glanced at him, frowning. "Why brave? I feel fine."

Justin started washing his hands. "I just meant, considering how you look."

Brian turned back to the mirror. "I look…" He stopped.

Justin finished drying his hands, and nodded sympathetically at Brian in the mirror. "I'm sure with one more day's rest, you'll be almost as good as new." Then he walked out of the bathroom.

Brian followed him into the living room, but didn't say anything, just resolved to hydrate, take the vitamins, and use that special moisturizing masque he'd bought on his last trip to New York before he went to sleep that night.

He flipped through a magazine, and after a little while, Justin sat down next to him, picked up the remote control, and turned on the TV.

"Well," Brian said, still turning pages, "isn't this a cozy domestic scene."

Justin didn't say anything. At first, Brian pretended not to care, but when the silence dragged on, he risked a sideways glance.

Brian saw two things.

One, Justin had a very slight smile on his face. And two, Justin had a very big bulge in his jeans.

Brian took the remote control away from him, switched off CNN, and nodded at Justin's crotch. "Anything you want to share with the rest of the class?"

Justin grinned. "I thought you'd never ask." Then he opened his jeans.

Brian really had felt better, but the minute he started to bend down toward Justin's cock, the pain knifed him behind the eyes.

"Hang on," Justin said, his voice rough but soft at the same time.

Justin knelt next to Brian on the sofa, then sank back onto his heels, pulling Brian into a kiss. Their hands were on each other's cocks, and Brian moaned into Justin's mouth and pulled him even closer.

Their cocks were pressed together, both their hands tangled on them, and Brian felt the pain in his head pounding with the beating of his heart, but he just fucking didn't care anymore.

Justin's head was tipped back, and Brian bit his chin, kissed his throat, and tightened his grip on their cocks.

"God, Brian," Justin said, kissing his jaw, then his mouth.

When Brian came, it was in a sudden rush of heat spilling onto his hand and Justin's. Justin came at almost the same moment, his left hand gripping the back of Brian's neck.

Brian felt his headache pound as his pulse slowed down, and he sagged back against the sofa. Justin slid down with him, kissing him gently, his fingers pressing into his forehead right where the pain was centered. He applied pressure, then released it, and the pain retreated just enough for Brian to catch his breath.

"Is that better?" Justin said, barely brushing his lips across Brian's cheek.

Brian smiled, his face against Justin's hair. "Remind me to be more sympathetic the next time your allergies flare up."

Justin shrugged. "I recognize the signs and don't let it get as bad as you did." He brushed Brian's hair back. "Something I'm guessing you'll never do again."

Brian shuddered, then brightened. "Although it had its bright side."

He'd said it lightly, but Justin's face went still for a second. "Brian…"

Brian looked at him, his eyes clear. "What?"

"If what Ted thought was true, and he didn't call me, I'd have killed him. So don't fire him. This time."

Brian shook his head. "Poor Theodore. Me on one side, you on the other, both threatening his continued existence."

Justin looked at him. "Although… given the history… "

There wasn't any noise except the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of someone calling the elevator. When Brian finally answered, his voice was a little cold. "I promised you I wouldn't keep a secret like that again. And I won't."

Justin looked at him, then nodded. "I know you'll tell me if you get cancer, or plague, or… that other thing."

"Galloping consumption," Brian supplied.

Justin nodded. "Or that."

Brian shifted to face him. "But?"

Justin put one hand on each side of Brian's face. "I don't actually enjoy taking care of you when you're sick, you know."

Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Who would?"

"Exactly." Justin let his hands drop to Brian's shoulders. "And there are a lot of things I'd rather do than negotiate our long-distance, committed, and yet unconventional and undefined relationship."

Brian stood up, even though it made his head pound. "So, you want to be informed first and at the earliest possible moment if and when any disasters, however small, befall me?"

Justin stood close to Brian. "I know we don't need rings and vows… I just need to not get any more calls like that from Ted, and not because you had him killed."

Brian sighed. "Fine. I swear to call if I get so much as an infected hangnail." He stuck his tongue in his cheek. "And I'll allow Theodore to live."

Justin laughed. "Deal."

Brian pressed his forehead to Justin's. "Now, can we spend the rest of your visit fucking instead of talking?"

Justin put his arms around Brian's neck. "That's a deal, too." And then he kissed him.


End file.
